A Feast for a Goddess
by Elenna-Elemmire
Summary: A deleted scene from my story The Singer. A challenge entry for 'But it's my first time'. Merlassë makes a new discovery to the sensation of 'Taste'.


Soup Time

Author's note: written in response to the "But it's my first time" challenge on OSA. A deleted scene taken from my story "The Singer".

For anyone reading this as an independent vignette, Merlassë and Linneniel is the same person. She is a Maia in the guise of an elleth, rescued by Glorfindel and living among Turgon's people who are travelling towards the completed Gondolin in this scene.

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(Merlassë) 

"Well? Aren't you going to eat it?"

Lenwë's voice awoke me from my intensive examination of the steaming bowl of suspicious liquid he had placed in front of me. I had been busy trying to remember exactly what I was supposed to do with the short wooden stick with the wide end when he spoke, reminding me that he was still in the room.

"Eat it?" I said a little confusedly. "Oh…of course."

Shooting a nervous sidelong glance at him looking expectantly at me, I tentatively took the utensil in my fingers, getting used to the feel of the wood between my fingers. Raising it above the bowl, I let my hand linger just above the steaming stew. Lenwë coughed, and I shot another glance at him, before dipping the wide end of the utensil into the hot liquid. Finding that the wide end of the utensil scooped up the steaming stew very effectively, I gave a little gasp of pleasure and then slowly raised the utensil to my lips, balancing the brimming edges of the utensil carefully.

"Be careful Linneniel, it may be very hot." Warned Lenwë, looking at me with amusement. I looked curiously at him and then back at the utensil.

"Try blowing on it." He said, duly noting my confused expression.

Taking his advice into mind, I blew on the liquid in the utensil, just a little too hard, which scattered the contents of the utensil all over the table and Lenwë.

"LINNENIEL!" he exclaimed, his robes splattered with hot stew, and a few strands of dripping hair falling over his face. The sight of him glowing with fury was the most comical thing I've ever seen. Dropping the wooden utensil on the table with a clatter, I ducked my head under the table laughing into the palm of my hand, stealing guilty glances at him over the edge.

"Valar! Linneniel how can you make the simple act of eating soup into the most complicated thing in the world?" He said, throwing up his hands in exasperation. "Am I going to have to feed you?"

Cautiously emerging from under the table, I rose to see Lenwë with a stern expression on his face, arms crossed in annoyance across his chest. I smiled pleasantly at him and handed him a small piece of cloth that lay on the table beside me.

"For your face." I said as solemnly as I could, handing out the said piece of linen out to him.

Lenwë glared at me, snatching the cloth from my hand and quickly wiping his face with it. Giggling at the disapproving look on his face, I took the wooden utensil once again in my hand and began my second attempt at the challenging task of bringing at least a bit of the stew to my lips. Concentrating hard, I stared intently at the brimming liquid in the hollow of the utensil, daring it to spill on me.

After half a minute of hard work, I had finally successfully brought the soup up to the level of my lips again. Looking triumphantly at Lenwë, who was still fuming, I open my mouth and slowly tipped the contents of the utensil into my mouth.

At that very instant, a symphony of sensations lit off in my head, opening me to a complete new world of – taste! I had never tasted anything before. The Ainur needed no substance to support their bodies, we are beings of spirit. Never before had I indulged in the simple act of eating enjoyed by all the Children of Ilúvatar.

Leaving the delightful liquid to linger in my mouth whilst I savoured its flavour slowly, I closed my eyes to the completely new sensations that were overflowing my mind. Finally, I swallowed the soup and opened my eyes.

Lenwë was staring at me with a complete look of bewilderment, his eyebrows threatening to retreat into his hairline.

"What?" I asked, waving the wooden utensil in my hand.

He lowered his eyebrows a bit and continued to appear extremely baffled. I shrugged and set myself to trying once again at eating the soup, getting much more proficient with each scoop. In no time at all, I had successfully emptied the contents of the bowl and then looked expectantly up at Lenwë.

"Do you have anymore?" I asked.

"…What?"

"Do you have anymore to eat?" I repeated my question patiently.

"Errrr… I'll go get some bread for you if you're still hungry." He said, his voice sounding a bit broken and meek.

"I'd like that very much, thank you." I said, smiling at him. He looked bemusedly at me, along with another odd expression on his face, before standing hesitantly and leaving in search of more eatables, leaving me alone in the Lenwë's tent in which we had been residing. I looked happily down at my empty bowl, reminiscing all the wonderful sensations that the soup had invoked. I would give anything to experience that again. This little idea of me staying in among the Eldalië was certainly paying off very nicely.

Oh I was going to like being an elleth very much indeed.

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(Lenwë) 

Making my escape from the infirmary tent where I just finish witnessing the most disturbing thing I've ever seen, I took a deep breath and set off to find Linneniel some more to eat.

Tonight, when she had woken up once again, I recalled that she had not eaten anything since that day Glorfindel had brought her back to the halls of Nevrast and maybe longer. I had set myself to finding her some nourishment to replenish her strength. In truth, she looked remarkably well for an elleth who had had nothing to eat in more than two weeks, but I credited that to her excellent constitution.

The image of Linneniel savouring the bit of soup with relish suddenly popped into my head once again and I groaned.

Morgoth's balls. I had never seen anyone experience an… orgasm, over a spoonful of soup.

I swore a couple more times under my breath.

Linneniel's reaction to the taste of soup can only be closely decribed as an orgasm. The sight of her pale red lips dripping with a few drops of soup, her eyes closed in ecstasy, together with the quiet moaning of appreciation coming from her was enough to set any ellon into a series of extremely erotic images.

Oh Eru, I only hope she was not going to be anything like that when I return to her with lembas…

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**Originally, I never thought about posting this story on at all. This was written as a challenge entry for OSA and I thought, nah i'm too lazy to post it on here. But then I thought it wasn't really fair if none of my readers here had the chance to read this silly little interlude I had written, which expands on the story I had began in "The Singer". So make my efforts pay off and review! And while you're at it review for my other stories as well. I don't care if you write a grand total of two words. Just review and let me know that there are some people out there actually reading my stories. I am kind of despairing that because the LOTR heat is over, not a lot of people are actually haunting these parts anymore. So please, make my day. REVIEW.**


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